Wounded Within
by Elevanya
Summary: Set in the far future of the Star Wars universe, humans are near extinction as the galaxy is ruled by a savage race called the Tazzarn. This is one human's struggle and her adventure that reaches through time, in which death is only the beginning. TPM
1. Death's Visage

_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, if I did, I probably would be rich, which trust me, I'm not. The concept for this story and anything you don't recognize is mine, however, so no touchy!_

_A/N: This is short, but it's really only a prologue dispite it saying it is chapter 1. This chapter takes place in the far future of the Star Wars universe. _

Wounded Within

Chapter 1: Death's Visage

I gasped, sweating feverishly as I flung myself out of bed. Quickly I pulled on a pair of black skin tight leather pants and jerkin. Warily I drew my sword, the metal hissing slightly as it slid from its battered sheath. I would not be taken unaware a second time. A shudder ran down my spine as I remembered the last time I had woken like this. That was the last time I had seen my parents. The night They took my parents away.

The night was still, silent in an unnatural way that kept me tense. They had discovered my refuge, I knew it. As one of the few remaining humans in the galaxy, I was a prime target, and a much sought after prize for bounty hunters and Their minions. All of the smart and able humans had fled the galaxy. Those who remained were being hunted to extinction. Somehow, I doubted those who had tried to escape this genocide ever made it. Few remained, some slaves, their masters unwilling to give them up, others in hiding like myself. No more than a couple hundred lived, maybe less. They were very close to their goal.

A shimmering shape caught my attention and I whirled around to meet this adversary. I nearly dropped my weapon from the shock.

I rarely considered myself superstitious, I didn't have the time to be, but I did believe in ghosts of the dead, and that was what the newcomer appeared to be.

It was a man. Dressed in a thigh length brown tunic, with darker brown pants, belt and robe, the figure seemed inconsistent with the surroundings, as if he were not really part of it. His long straight brown hair fell over his shoulder, and his deep probing eyes studied me. A aurora of blue surrounded him like a halo. His lips parted as if he were trying to speak, but no sound came out.

On my guard again, now that the shock had passed, I raised my sword defensively. If he wished to speak with me, then he would have to be quick. Ghost or no ghost, I was having none of this.

"_Esterial, please." _His voice reached my ears as if over a long distance, or through water. The syllables were distorted, but I could understand him clearly.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, stepping closer despite myself. As I neared him I felt a strange stirring in my gut, almost a yearning for something that was far past. A strange tingling filled me and I got this sense of _otherness_. As if a void had just opened up inside and around of me. Yet the void was not empty, but filled with green tendrils and threads woven into a massive tangle that encompassed everything yet nothing at the same time.

"_Esterial, you are unmistakable in any time._"

"What?" I half demanded, half whined in confusion.

_"You will find out. Do not fear, I will explain when we meet again."_

The man's explanation merely confused me further. Before I could question him more, his form had dissipated, along with the strange feeling that twisted my insides.

I stood there, numb, for several more seconds before coming to my senses once again. If They were out there, I didn't want to be caught off guard. Pausing, I listened intently to the night. The unnatural hush that had held the world in thrall seemed to have gone, and I relaxed. If They were still there, then the creatures of the night would be held in a fearful silence. Their very nature instilled fear at an instinctual level. The threat to me had passed, but I could not sleep, not now. To much was on my mind.

I found my mind thinking about the past, and what had lead to my kind nearly becoming extinct. To weary to force my mind on other things, I let the train of thought continue.

Several million years ago, the Great Republic was at it's peak. The people felt invincible. That was, at least, until They came. Their true name was the Tazzarn, or that was what They introduced their species as. They said Their purpose was to see if They might be worthy of joining the Great Republic. Unwittingly, the Chancellor greeted them with open arms. That was the first mistake. The Tazzarn kept a low profile at first, seemingly traders merely, uninterested in true power. Some tried to warn the Senate what would happen, but they were silenced. Each mysteriously disappeared soon after speaking out against the Tazzarn. Of course They claimed they had no part of it. We should have seen it coming.

A few years later, when the Tazzarn were firmly rooted in both the government and regular population, the rest came. A force of several thousand warships, millions of troops that outnumbered the Clone Warriors by far. At first the people of the Republic tried to fight back, but soon found that the Tazzarn were impervious to blasters and other energy weapons. Whether that was from their armor or their body, no one survived long enough to find out. Their takeover was swift and decisive. The Tazzarn slaughtered any who opposed them. For the most part they let the people live as they normally had, albeit more restricted, but for some unknown reason they felt a strong animosity for humans. Slavery awaited any humans who had survived the war.

In secret humans harbored thoughts of revenge against their masters, but had no way to carry it out. Until one fated day that an unfortunate kitchen boy discovered that they could be cut with knives and other rudimentary weapons made from steel or other metals. The boy was killed for injuring his master, but the seed of knowledge and hope had been sown. It grew within every slave, spreading until all were infected. Hidden caches of swords, knives, bows, arrows, axes, and other such weapons were built up, and in the dark of night the slaves trained. Patiently, they waited for the day that they would rise up and overthrow those who had enslaved them.

The day came, and the slaves attacked their masters in the field and home, every man woman and child, but it had been generations since the slavery began, and none lived who remembered those times. Though the feelings were strong, none truly lacked the will or drive to change something both they and their parents knew for their entire lives. The rebellion was crushed and They began Their worst atrocity yet. Genocide. Humans all across the galaxy fled, or went into hiding to be hunted by Them. Few remained, all to scattered to start a new rebellion. The Tazzarn ruled the galaxy with an iron fist, with a grip that would not slacken.

In some versions of the story it was said that great warriors called Jedi Knights, were the ones who spoke out against the Tazzarn's coming. It was also said that with their command of a power called the Force, they were the only who could really stand up to Them with their sabers of harnessed light. I had never really given credence to the tales. Everyone knew that the Jedi and their enemies the Sith were a myth, a tale told to children that not even the youngest believed was true. Names like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader were hardly known, recognized only by those who listened to the tales closely and loved them as entertainment, though not to be taken seriously. No one ever did.

Thankfully, my mind ran itself down to exhaustion, and I drifted off to sleep. If I had known then, sleep would not have come so easily.

The next morning I had to go to market. I didn't normally go to the market, it was to risky, but I desperately needed some supplies that I could not find for myself in the forest or swamps. I wrapped a plain brown-green cloak tightly about my body, careful that it would conceal the hidden knives I kept strapped to my waist and calves at all times. Pulling, my hood securely over my head so that I would not be recognized as a human, I stepped out into the cool forest that surrounded my humble home.

The main market on T'toine was half a day's walk away. Most people would have used hover cars, but the machines had been banned, for fear it aided any humans in escape. Only Tazzarn used the speedy vehicles. All others had to catch a ride on a runner-beast or walk on their own feet. Still it was not unpleasant. I was well rested, despite the nights scare, and I had both walked and ran greater distances without tiering. This half-day walk was no exertion, and I rather enjoyed the cool breeze that wafted through the branches, making them sigh like exhausted runner-beasts. For not the first time I began to wonder at the planet's strange name. T'toine. In the ancient tongue that had long since been censored by the Them, the word meant _desert_. It was an unusual thing to call a planet that was completely covered in forest and swampland, with several seas and rivers. Perhaps some time in the distant past this world was a desolate wasteland, covered with pockmarked and scarred rock. Still, pondering this brought no answer, and the day had passed me by.

I was at the market.

Discreetly, I wove in and out between a variety of aliens, making my way to shops that I knew well. There were many different species of alien, from all across the galaxy, but the kind that outnumbered them all was Them.

Their smooth, armored bodies cutting a swath through the throng, a bubble of space around each. Mist white hair hung lank from a crest at the top of Their heads and blended in seamlessly with Their armor. A tremor ran down my spine and I had to keep my hand from nervously pulling my hood forward. I could show no fear, They would know and seek me out. Their helmets obscured my vision of Their face, the faceless visors covering all but their cold steel eyes. If I were to see one of Their visages, I would have been easily deceived, distracted so that I did not notice Their armor and weapons.

The Tazzarn were eerily angelical. Their smooth ageless pearly faces were utterly inhuman, yet beautiful and peaceful. That was probably how They lured Their prey into a false sense of security and managed to gain control so easily. If only the Chancellor had felt the air of predatory sureness that emanated from the Tazzarn, perhaps it would have turned out differently.

I paused like the rest of the crowd as They passed, caught in the fear a prey feels before being caught. Luckily, the rest of the crowd was frozen as I was, so my stillness did not mark me out. I sighed in relief once They were gone and continued on my way.

The first few shops I stopped at were crowded, and I decided to return once the majority of the people had left. The third shop I stepped into was nearly deserted and I was able to buy a long coil of rope and several bolts of rough fabric. It was not as cheap as I wanted, but I would have to deal.

When I stepped up to the fourth store, I faltered. That funny feeling was churning my gut once again and I could feel the _otherness _around me. That was my warning. Flee, run, fly, the _otherness_ was urging me to do. My foot lifted, and I stepped across the threshold. As soon as my foot landed, the strange feeling left me, and my breath left me in a sudden whoosh. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it in.

I confidently stepped forward, my boots shuffling softly on the worn floorboards. Pots lined the shelves, and one in particular caught my eye. It was a large ceramic cooking pot, glazed in heat resistant paint. Blue patterns crawled across the side, intertwined with red and yellow lines and shapes. Smiling at the find, I walked towards it. My hands were steady as I reached for the pot, careful not to drop and shatter it.

Suddenly, a black gloved hand shot out from behind me, and seized the prize I had found. Another hand pushed me to the floor, the hard wood bruising my leg and side, a base of a pedestal jutting into my shoulder awkwardly.

Furious, I jumped to my feet, ready to confront my attacker. Just as I was pulling my knife from the sheath strapped to my right calf, I froze.

The one who attacked me was cloaked in black, but his hood had fallen to reveal his face. Terror gripped me in its iron clutches. My heart pounded in my chest and I found it hard to breath.

His face was human-like, though covered in an angular pattern of red and black. Somehow I didn't think that it was painted on. Yellowish horns protruded from the top of his head, and yellow eyes gazed at me malevolently. It was Death's visage if I ever saw one. He was Tazzarn, a Tazzarn of royal blood. They were the strongest, most fearsome of Their kind. Nearly impossible to defeat, and so cruel that even other Tazzarn cowered at their feet.

I struggled upright, but for some reason I could not get past kneeling. It was only then, that I realized the shocked and terrified stares coming from the shopkeeper and other customers. Panicky, I snatched at my hood, but it was to late. It had fallen from my head as I tumbled. I was revealed, and in front of a royal Tazzarn himself.

"Human," The being hissed, grabbing my throat in one hand and lifting me off the floor so my toes dangled inches from the wood. I gasped, unable to breath, and tugged weakly at his hand. "You are dead." The Tazzarn's grip tightened and my mind grew foggy from lack of oxygen. Blackness encroached on my vision, and my limbs became leaden.

I was dead, though the Tazzarn's grip had not killed my body yet, it would and soon. All hope of seeing freedom died within me, leaving an emptiness. But that emptiness was soon filled. Tangles of green thread wrapped and twisted around my body, weaving through my bones, filling me with their power. My awareness faded, but the power within me grew charring my insides with light and darkness both.

_A/N: Trust me, this is not the end, not even close. It is only the beginning. REVIEW! I need to know what you think and the more reviews I get (good or bad) the faster I update. I don't appreciate flames, but if you must, then I can't stop you, just be prepared for a scathing response if I'm in a bad mood. I did warn you, but don't let that discourage you from reviewing, I really need to know what people think of my writing. REVIEW!_


	2. Sands of Time

_Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars_

_A/N: Thank you to my reviewer, wswords. I am very disappointed in the rest of you who read, but didn't review. _

Wounded Within

Chapter 2: Sands of Time

_I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead_, the litany repeated itself over and over in my mind. I could no longer feel the Tazzarn's hand about my throat, but how could I if I were dead. Perhaps I would get to meet that ghost. If I did I would throttle some answers out of him with all my strength. Which wasn't much I had to admit as my body ached and burned. It was as if every cell of my body had been left to cook in the center of a star, torn apart, and then fused back together in molten rock. Pain was all I could feel, all I was aware of. Pain was everything, my entire world.

Then, suddenly, my world disappeared. I was floating in nothingness, a great void. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. I was not even entirely aware. I simply _was_, and whatever was me drifted aimlessly through the emptiness. Slowly, as if waking from a dream I perceived a lace work of green threads around me. I paid it no heed. How could mere threads contain the nothingness that embodied me. The threads tightened, drawing closer together until they formed a mesh so tightly weaved that not even nothing would be able to escape. It was a net, something I realized to late.

The net contracted and where the green threads touched me, I burned with the heat of pure life force. I shrank from the strangely painless burning, but with every movement I became even more entangled. Not quite panicking, but something that was almost as bad, I thrashed, attempting to get free.

_NO!NO!NO! _I thought, longing for the comforting numbness I had drifted in before. The threads tangled and wrapped around me like a fly caught in a spider's web. Soon I was completely covered in the green glow, the burning threads sinking into my being until the power permeated every part of me. I screamed silently, why I did not know for I still did not feel pain, nor joy, nor any other emotion that would prompt me to scream. Green blanketed what was now my world, and for a third, maddening time, my world collapsed from around me.

Shards of pain pierced my lungs as they tried to take in air. Something small and gritty flew into my eyes, nose, ears and mouth. I rolled over and spat the tint granules of sand out of my mouth, but it was pointless, more simply flew in until it coated my tongue. The sand, whipped around by the wind, settled into my clothes and hair, scouring any exposed skin until I was raw and bloody.

I had to find shelter. Soon. I couldn't last out in this sandstorm, strange thing that it was on a forested planet. I forced my battered body to stand, not once wondering how I could be alive, or if I was even. All I could think about was my need to find shelter. Tangled threads of green twined about me, only this time, instead of burning, they lent me strength, without which I would surely have died. The nothingness that always accompanied the threads created a small bubble of calmness that no sand was able to penetrate without being sucked into oblivion about my head. This let me breathe and saved my life as surely as the threads had.

Through the sand I could see, no not see, feel was a better word, several more bundles of green threads. One was to far away for me to reach, but two, clustered close together, were in my range. Haltingly at first, I stumbled towards the twin beacons, unsure why. The threads wrapped about me thrummed, urging me onward. My instincts told me to trust the strange powers that were protecting and guiding me, so I did. I forced my numbed feet to continue forward when all rational thought in me screamed that it was hopeless, that I should just lie down and accept death. This didn't make any sense to me. Wasn't I already dead? How could I die again? Bereft of anything to lose in continuing, I left all of my faith in the dark nothingness that blanketed me and the shining green threads that pulled me on.

I was almost at the two glowing beacons when I ran into something more solid than the walls of wind and sand that whirled about me. I realized, squinting, that it was a door. Desperately, I pounded on the door, my hands becoming bloody against it. Would they hear me? Would they let me in? My hammering grew weaker until I could no longer stand, even with the support of the threads. I was vaguely aware of the door grinding as it was opened, opening to admit me into my refuge, my sanctuary, my haven, but I had already fallen into the comforting embrace of the dark nothingness that had protected me.

I dreamed.

I was painfully aware of only one thing. The Tazzarn was before me. His frightening yellow eyes pierced me as surely as any dagger would. His expression on his red and black face was cold, his eyes glittered with sadistic pleasure. My life was a game to him, I was a toy, nothing more. He didn't take my threats seriously as he circled me slowly with the grace of a predator, closing in for the kill. He had enjoyed the hunt, but the hunt was ended, I was cornered, defenseless against an enemy so strong he could snap me in half.

Frozen in fear I could do no more than follow him warily with my eyes. My heart beat unsteadily, it's palpitations erratic and fast. I was aware of my surroundings as only a blur, or perhaps a swirling mist. Either way I could not make out what I stood on or where I might be. All that was clear was the black and red face of Death that spiraled ever closer.

I closed my eyes, hoping that maybe if I did not see the object of my fear that I would be free of it. A vain hope. Light fingers caressed the back of my neck making the hairs stand up on end and a shiver run down my spine. I tried to flinch away from that touch, but something more than fear held me. The sense of _otherness_ engulfed me briefly and I could see the tendrils of darkness holding me still. Why would the nothingness confine me for Death after saving my life? As soon as that thought finished I knew the reason. Behind me, where I assumed the Tazzarn stood only a foot away was a hole, a void, of the darkness that not even light could escape. This Tazzarn could control that darker aspect of the _otherness_. Then, just as briefly as it had come, my insight vanished.

My breath caught as the fingers moved down my throat and traced my shoulder. He was not yet done playing with me. My heart beat frantically as if trying to escape the ribs that imprisoned it.

"I must admit I expected more. I confess I am...disappointed. Still, it was an interesting hunt." The Tazzarn purred, his voice deep.

_Come up with some snide comment, some rebellious defiant remark_, I told myself thinking of all the stories of heroes who had been defiant to the end and spit in the face of their Death. I tried to speak, to insult him, but instead found it a struggle to even breathe.

"A pity my Master wants you dead. It would be fun to play a little longer," The Tazzarn sighed as his fingers tangled in my hair.

Suddenly, he yanked my head back, baring my throat. I could see his yellow eyes clearly and in them, my defeat, my death. My mouth gaped helplessly and my eyes widened in fear. I heard a _swish_ and something red flashed in the corner of my vision. The red thing arched down towards my exposed neck and I opened my mouth in a scream that never made it past my lips.

A shrill sound filled my ears and I struggled against something that tangled my limbs and made me feel as if I were drowning. Maybe the Tazzarn had not killed me, or maybe I was dead as I was supposed to be. My eyes opened of their own accord and my struggling stopped. The ringing cry that had sounded loud around me ceased. It had been my own screams, I realized distantly. The clinging encumbrance around my body was a rough woolen blanket. The hunt had been a dream, nothing more.

"Relax, you are safe." I turned toward the voice and found myself facing a woman dressed in rough woolen clothes similar to my blanket. The fabric was of a muted blue-gray hue. I must have been in a state of shock, for it was only then that I noticed she was human.

"Is this the afterlife? I doubt a human such as yourself would risk discovery to help me in front of a Tazzarn prince himself. Even more unlikely you are a slave whose master is in the market for another slave." I eyed her suspiciously as her expression showed shock.

"I am a slave, but I don't think Watto wants another."was her even answer.

In a flash I flung myself out of the simple bed I had been lying in. I had to get away. If this Tazzarn-Watto?- didn't wish to keep me, he would surely kill me or hand me back over to that prince. I shuddered and nearly collapsed as the last of my energy bled away with that involuntary movement.

"Come, back to bed, you're in no condition to be walking around." The woman said supporting me as she guided me back to the bed. I lacked the strength to resist, something I did not like at all.

"Some afterlife this is. We risk our lives to gain freedom from the Tazzarn only to return to that servitude after death." I snorted ruefully as the woman tucked the woolen blanket securely about me.

"You are not dead," she said, making me want to groan. Why, why, why didn't I run when the _otherness_ told me to?

"I might as well be if I'm in the hands of the Tazzarn," I mumbled as my eyes tried to close. Suddenly weary, I let them, but did not succumb to sleep. I wanted to be alert and aware as I could be.

"How is she," a man asked from what I guessed to be the doorway. There was something about his voice that I recognized. The cadence and tone had sparked something in the back of my mind. Distracted by my thoughts, I had not noticed that the man was speaking again. Annoyed at my self, I pushed my musings towards the back of my mind. They could wait.

"Did she say anything yet? Maybe her name?"

"No," the woman answered steadily, "But, she did seem disoriented beyond what is usual. She keeps talking about something called 'tazzarn' and her being dead. She won't listen to reason and panicked when I mentioned I was a slave. And that was after she asked if I was." Her voice trailed off and I could tell she was shaking her head, no doubt sympathizing for the mad girl.

"Strange, I have never heard that word before. Tazzarn." The man paused, his brain working almost audibly. "Thank you, Shmi, I'll sit with her a while."

I heard the soft swish of rough fabric as the woman, Shmi, left the room and the creak of the chair as the man sat. After a few moments, he spoke.

"You are not sleeping."

I kept my eyes shut, my breathing steady, and my limbs still. Hopefully, he would think he was mistaken and leave.

A few more moments passed in silence in which I could feel my muscles tense involuntarily. I heard children outside. Strange, that children would be here. Most Tazzarn did not allow their human slaves to breed.

"Do not try to trick me. It will not work."

"And why is that?" I answered, no longer even trying to feign sleep, though I still did not open my eyes.

"Because the Force will tell me."

"The Force?" I asked skeptically, "What is that?"

"The life-force that permeates everything."

Force! Hah!

The man continued his explanation. "The Jedi have learned to listen to and harness the power of the Force."

"Jedi!" I spluttered. The Tazzarn would kill this man if they caught him speaking of the Jedi.

"Quiet!" I snapped when I had recovered from my laughter. "Are you crazy. The Jedi don't exist, but nevertheless the Tazzarn will kill you if they catch you speaking of that nonsense."

There was silence for a few moments.

"The Jedi are not a myth. I am one. My name is Qui-gon Jinn."

I broke out in helpless, almost maniacal, laughter again. First I die, now this! One person can only take so much. It was then that I opened my eyes.

I froze, mouth gaping. Before me, sitting calmly as if he had not a care in the world was a man dressed in a light brown tunic. Straight dark hair fell slightly behind his shoulders and deep, probing eyes, studied me carefully. No! It couldn't be. I half expected to see a shimering blue aurora around his frame. A shuddering breath worked its way into my lungs and it was only then that I noticed I had stopped breathing.

"_You!_" I gasped, sitting bolt upright. "I really must be dead to be speaking with a ghost who looks like he's real. You didn't look like that before. Spirits must look different to other spirits than they do to the living." The explanation seemed simple and I calmed slightly, despite the fact that it only proved I was dead. I already considered myself dead. It would have been more of a shock to find that I was still living.

"Who are you? What is your name?" The man/ghost, Qui-gon Jinn, asked.

"I thought you knew. Anyway, how is it you know me, last time you said you would tell me when we next met."

I waited for a few moments, but when Qui-gon's pleasantly confused expression did not change, I glared at him.

"Well, I'm waiting." I snapped.

"You must have me mistaken with someone else."

I studied him carefully. No, I finally decided, I did not have him mistaken. This was the ghost that had visited me that night that turned out to be one of my last nights alive. I shook my head mutely.

"You must," He protested, "I do not recognize you."

"Oh, stop playing, ghost, you know what I speak of." I swung myself up from the bed and leaned towards him menacingly. He _would _tell me, no matter the sick game he was playing.

"I am not a ghost."

I stepped towards him until I was merely a foot away. I stepped back, suddenly. The sense of _otherness_ washed through me. I could see green threads encircling his form. The green and emptiness inside and around me spoke. It did not use words, exactly, but my mind understood it as such.

_:He tells truth. You are in a time before yours, brought here by us, dark and light, to help.:_

_Help with what? _I demanded, slightly in awe.

I did not expect an answer, and I did not receive one. I calmed and stepped back once more.

"My name is Esterial."

_A/N: REVIEW! I wanted to write more, but writer's block set in and I have't been able to get over it yet. I need people to review!_


	3. Shadowed Force

_Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, sorry to disappoint you._

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I've been having writer's block with all of my stories (Ah I know the horror!). It's kinda short, but I thought something was better than nothing._

Wounded Within

Chapter 3: Shadowed Force

_How do I find out what's going on here?_ I thought quietly to myself, willing the _otherness_ to tell me, maybe even speak as it had the night before...just to show I hadn't been imagining it.

I stared at the meal of oats and bread in front of me, but didn't really see it. Hunger gnawed at my stomach as I had not eaten in quite a while, but it went unnoticed as the food on the table. All of my concentration went into imploring the _otherness_ to make itself known as it had before. Still, something told me that the occurrence had been a rare one that came along almost never. The revelation made me uncomfortable, but then I was an anachronism, a being caught out of my time, flung into the past, a rarity in itself. The _otherness_ had explained the reason simply to help, but it seemed that being pulled into the past that I had thought only a faint myth had happened for a greater purpose.

The _otherness _was not forthcoming in an answer, but instead urged me silently to follow the currents of air to the outside of the dwelling. The strange otherworldly force had not lead me astray thus far, so I did as it suggested.

At first I was hesitant. What if the Tazzarn had ordered these slaves not to let me leave the confines of the modest house. Immediately I squashed that thought. These humans had assured me there were no Tazzarn here, they had not even heard of them before I told them and the _otherness_ gave me no reason to doubt them.

As I followed the ethereal line like a length of quivering fishing twine, wondering distantly whether I was the fisherman or the fish, it occurred to me that the sensation of _otherness_ I had been experiencing no longer came in sporadic bursts, but rather when I needed or called on it. Strange, the sensation had seemed to grow stronger as well. Seemingly in response, the _otherness_ quivered in what felt like approval, much like a parent praising a child for solving a puzzle that would be simple to any adult.

Cold drafts of air swirled around my bare feet, billowing up the hem of the simple smock I wore. The leathers I was so accustomed to had mysteriously disappeared, though not along with my sword, knives, and other weapons that I valued almost as much as my life. I guessed that my ungrudging hostess must have disposed of the worn clothes, seeing them as nothing but rags and old bits of runner-beast leather. I very nearly snorted at the thought. I could say the same about her clothes, but then again, the sandstorm must have shredded my clothes worse than it did my skin.

These thoughts carried me out onto what appeared to be a communal porch of some kind. The stuccoed floor was rough against my feet as the similar wall was against my palm. The rooftops of many houses similar to the one I had just exited were visible from my vantage point. I have to admit it was slightly impressive for someone who had spent their entire life sheltered and isolated by the forest. The _otherness_ urged me onwards and I guiltily pulled myself away from the view and continued. Just short of a turn, the _otherness_ told me to halt and listen. Something said that my goal was just around the corner, but it could not see me, or I wouldn't learn what I was supposed to.

I waited, as patient as I was able, but it was still some time before a voice drifted on the wind to me from where my goal stood. Only a few seconds latter and the syllables entering my ears permeated my brain and began to make sense in words. Halfway through the sentence, I recognized the voice. It was Qui-gon.

"what about the results?"

"-highest midichlorien counts I've ever encountered, not even Yoda has a count that high." Another, fainter and somewhat distorted voice I didn't recognize answered. "The boy's count is higher, though not by much. Where did you find this woman? Are you saying she just showed up?"

"Yes, during the sandstorm, nearly died and seemed very disoriented for the first day or so after waking. Claimed she knew me."

"This can't be a coincidence, two powerful Force sensitives just showing up almost literally at our doorstep, both unrelated."

"I'm convinced the Force guided us to the boy, but the woman is a complete wild card. I could not have predicted her presence, not even Yoda could." As Qui-gon said the word 'force', the _otherness_ hummed in recognition as if answering to a name. Perhaps this was what it was called. I mouthed the word and the _otherness_, or Force, whispered its approval along with an admonishment for letting my focus wander so easily. Duly chastised, I turned my attention back to Qui-gon and his conversation with the unknown man.

"Still," Qui-gon continued, "There is something a little _off_ about her Force presence. I'm sure she is not a Sith, her presence is not dark enough for her to be, but there is something _shadowed_ about it, like she is not wholly of the Light side either."

"That is strange, but what could it mean?" The other voice asked.

"I don't know." Qui-gon said softly, half to himself.

"Perhaps if you get another sample of her blood we can find out more," I heard the other voice respond but once I heard the words 'another sample of her blood' all of the other words became meaningless.

Roaring incoherently I charged out of hiding and tackled the first man I saw, which happened to be Qui-gon. Distantly I noted the incongruence of his being alone on the porch while he had been speaking to another, but that was unimportant in relation to the fact that he had somehow obtained a sample of my blood.

"Where did you get my blood?" I hissed, pinning him beneath me so he could not move. The man was easily taller than me, but for some reason he did not put up much of a fight.

"You are still wounded, don't exert yourself or you'll do more damage," was all Qui-gon said in an eerily calm voice.

"_Where did you get my blood?_" I asked again, digging a knee into the small of his back sharp enough to make him gasp quietly.

"You were bleeding enough for me to get a sample when we found you. I checked it for infections."

"And I suppose these 'midichloreans' are an infection?"

When he didn't answer I continued, "Are you mad? If a Tazzarn gets his hands on that sample he will be able to track me no matter where I go. I am as good as dead. Every human knows that, even the stupid ones, but apparently, you didn't. Now, does that make you extremely stupid, or just a complete fool?"

Qui-gon grunted in response.

"Now, I'm going to let you up, and you will immediately, without any delay, destroy the sample you took, and I will watch to make sure you do it properly. Understood?"

"Yes," He said, but there was an inflection to his voice that hinted to me that he was scheming something. The green threads of the Force coiled about him and hissed silently. I didn't let him up immediately, wanting to let him stew for a moment. That turned out to be a mistake. Fast enough that I barely had time to blink, our positions were reversed. Now I was the one pinned to the ground, Qui-gon above. _How did he do that?_ I wriggled, trying to get a little more room to move, but it was to no avail.

Suddenly, the pressure on my body eased and I felt Qui-gon lift his weight off of my. I rolled over quickly as I was able and scrambled to my feet. Qui-gon stood about a yard away and stared at me calmly as I rubbed feeling back into my arms. I could already feel a bruise forming on my shoulder where my sensitive skin had been jammed into the stone floor of the balcony.

"I suggest you do not try that again, especially while you are still healing. I may not go so easy on you in the future." The man said in an infuriatingly calm voice.

"Destroy the sample, otherwise I cannot promise anything of the sort," I growled in return. _Go easy on me?_

"Very well."

"Destroy it _now_, so I may be assured you actually did it with my own eyes."

"Why."

"I've already told you that, _now destroy the sample!_" Why would he not simply relent? He _had_ to know how ruthless the Tazzarn were and how dangerous that blood was, even if he claimed to have never heard of them. What human had not heard of them? Perhaps he really was working for the Tazzarn. No, even if he was truly that despicable the Tazzarn would never lower themselves to work with a _human_, or even employ one in some office other than slavery.

"Are you a slave to a Tazzarn master?" I demanded after that thought ran through my head.

"No," was his answer.

"Then why do you not destroy the sample? _Why do you aid them?_"

Instead of answering with words this time, Qui-gon merely took a small object out of his cloak that could have been a vial and dashed it against the stone.

"Not good enough," I growled when I saw he would do no more, "do you have flint and tinder?"

"What?"

"Do you have flint and tinder?" I asked again, seeing his blank face, I changed my words slightly, "Something to start a fire?"

"Oh," With that sound of understanding, Qui-gon took out a small device from his pocket and set it to the stain of dark liquid that showed against the stone amid broken glass. There was a soft click and the device produced a small flame. The blood caught and was soon alight. It was consumed quickly; the fire extinguished itself when it ran out of fuel. I stared at the spot for a few moments to assure myself the sample was completely destroyed before looking at Qui-gon.

The man turned to return to the confines of the building and beckoned me to follow. I asked the Force if I could trust him and it thrummed in my veins reassuringly. Qui-gon would not harm me, at least not for the moment. Overcome with a sudden sense of weariness, I trudged after him.

_A/N: That's it...for now at least. I'll update as soon as I can. REVIEW PLEASE AND I'LL UPDATE FASTER! _**_REVIEW!_** _It's not that hard, you can do it!_


	4. Take a Chance

_Disclaimer: Sorry to disappoint you, I don't own Star Wars._

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long, but I've had major writers block for all my stories. I'd like to thank Sugar-high Pixie and Jax Solo for reviewing._

Wounded Within

Chapter 4: Take A Chance

I sighed. Qui-gon was haggling with what appeared to be an over sized blue fly, but he assured me that this was Watto. Definitely not a Tazzarn, thankfully. So far I had not seen any of that ilk, but assuredly it was only a matter of time. It was slightly confusing that Qui-gon and his...associates had never heard of them, but if the entire planet was as diverse as this one city, no doubt there were some races here that the supposed Jedi was not aware of. From what little history knew about the legendary warriors, they were far from infallible. If I were truly in the past, that fact would still remain. Probably it would be magnified for the time the Force had drawn me into seemed to be before the time of Darth Vader. The Jedi had not yet been jarred from their complacency and made to face reality. Perhaps if the rest were true and I had been drawn into what I thought of as the far distant past, the Tazzarn were truly not yet here.

"You don't think Anakin will win?" Qui-gon's statement cut through my reflections. What kind of question was that?

"Horns and yellow eyes," I swore half to myself. Even I didn't believe that scrawny boy could win this race. The Force thrummed in my nerves reassuringly, but still I could not get over my doubts.

My comment earned me a strange look from Watto and Qui-gon, but they presently continued their conversation. I did not even try to hide that I was eavesdropping. The two did not seem to mind overmuch, as Watto was nearly shouting.

"Don't get me wrongo. I have great faith in the boy." Watto was explaining. "He's a credit to your race, but Sebulba there is going to win, I think."

I looked in the direction he indicated. The strange being looked formidable to be sure, I would even go so far as to call him 'nasty' but that was no way to judge his racing ability. Still, he seemed pretty confident. Perhaps he really was as good as Watto thought. I nearly laughed. Look at me. I had been to what, one pod race? What did I know about them? And here I was, sizing up a competitor like I gambled on these annoying and pointless races regularly.

"Why," Qui-gon asked, as skeptic as I.

"He always wins," Watto began.

"There is no such thing as always," I interrupted with more force than I intended.

"I'm betting heavily on Sebulba." The blue creature finished.

"I'll take that bet." Watto wasn't the only person to be surprised when Qui-gon spoke. I stared at him, slightly confused, wasn't he already trying to win the parts? What good would this extra bet do?

"I'll wager my new racing pod against... say... the boy and his mother." The Jedi finished.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. What could a Jedi want with acquiring slaves? He had better be meaning to free them once winning them or I would very gladly gut him like a fish. I wandered away a few feet. I refused to listen. The worth of lives was not something to be haggled over, let alone bought and sold. My hand reached at my side for the sword hilt that normally rested there, seeking reassurance. I found no comfort as my hand closed over air. Qui-gon had not yet returned my weapons, something that irked me to no end.

"The boy is small, he can't be worth much." I frowned, Qui-gon _did not_ just say that. My esteem for the Jedi went down another notch. I listened carefully as Watto protested. The blue alien was determined not to lose both slaves for a pod. Qui-gon insisted, and a deal was made. A chance cube would decide who Qui-gon won were Anakin to get first in the podrace. I didn't turn around as I heard the soft sound of the cube impacting the floor as it rolled. My frown deepened as I felt the subtle use of the Force behind me. He was influencing the outcome! I did not know what to think of that.

_Blue, the boy_, the Force whispered in the air. The force thrummed through me for a few more moments before fading. I heard Watto's angry voice behind me.

"You won the small toss, outlander, but not the race... it makes no difference."

I could see Qui-gon's smug smile.

"You cheated." I whispered flatly as he came up from behind me. I could see the rest of our group approaching on those strange beasts known as Eopies. I thought they looked like large, ungainly, and slower versions of runner-beasts. Riding on one had been unnerving as I had only been on a runner-beast once in my life. I much preferred to keep my feet on the ground. The Eopie had had a more swaying walk that made me sick to my stomach. If I had to choose, I would ride a runner-beast any day, but I would still not enjoy it.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps, it was the will of the Force." The tall Jedi countered.

"Perhaps it was both." I responded stonily.

Qui-gon merely smiled, and infuriating smile to be sure.

As they approached the small procession towing Anakin's pod, Watto said something in his own language to the boy and wandered off laughing uproariously.

"What did he mean by that?" Anakin asked.

"I'll tell you later."

I merely snorted at the Jedi's oh so inadequate answer. "You know, you're a really bad lier." I told him, not bothering to be covert. I would not reveal the subject of the bet Qui-gon had made, it would not do to get Anakin's hopes of supposed freedom up and so distract him in the race where even the smallest distraction could end his life. The one podrace I had seen as a child had proved to me how dangerous the sport was, fast and dangerous. The boy needed to be on top of things to even finish and anticipate _everything_. In a race as fast as the one I had seen in T'toine's largest city, reaction was not enough to save one's life.

Still, the boy was not such a fool as to not recognize when people were being less than truthful, and even if he didn't know what was being covered up, it was best to have the obvious lie out in the open and save the boy some pride.

Qui-gon looked at me in annoyance. I shrugged, giving him my sweetest smile. I never said I would behave. In fact, the instance that I had been forced to accompany the Jedi anywhere I went outside Shmi's house argued the contrary. Until he gave me my weapons back, I would make it a point to be a thorn in his side. He had no idea who he was messing with.

I turned my attention to the busy hanger. Various pilots, technicians, and droids scurried about, many to intent on their own pods to notice anything outside of their own sphere of attention. Most were aliens I had never seen, but living a life confined to the shadows and hiding tended to narrow one's group of acquaintances. Jar Jar beside me was a good example. He claimed to be a Gungan, but in my knowledge, that race had been extinguished in the second Great War. No history records I had been able to steal had ever mentioned what they looked like, or what their society was like other than that they were determined warriors. The records had not even included their native planet. The thought of ever meeting one had never crossed my mind, as well as several of the other species I had seen today, but then again, I had never dreamed I would be cast back in time by a generally thought to be mythological power called the Force.

I turned my attention from my internal musings on my fate and just in time. I wordlessly grabbed the back of Jar Jar's jacket as he began to wander away after whatever had caught his attention.

"What messa do?" He demanded plaintively, but I did not answer, merely shook my head. I did not want to have to deal with hunting the Gungan down before he hurt himself, and I knew the others did not want to have to deal with it either.

"This is so Wizard!" One of Anakin's little friends exclaimed. The child's delight was obvious as he continued. "I'm sure you'll do it this time, Annie."

"Do what?" Padme asked.

"Finish the race of course," the child, Kitster that was his name, answered.

Padme turned to Anakin whose face was sheepish. "You never won a race."

I smirked. Why was that not surprising.

"Well..." the boy looked down, "Not exactly."

"Never even finished?"

I opened my mouth to say something bitting about how obvious it had been that the boy had been bragging, but a sharp jab from the Force stopped me. I glared at Qui-gon, but remained silent.

Anakin sputtered for a second, fishing for words, before he continued in a more confident tone. "...but Kitster's right, I will this time."

"Of course you will." Qui-gon interceded.

"Stole the words right out of my mouth," I told him, letting sarcasm lend bite to my words. Through the Force I could feel an overwhelming wave of exasperation roll off of the Jedi. I smiled at him, earning a look of confusion from him. Did he somehow know how the Force spoke and lent its knowledge to me? I shook my head. Of course he couldn't unless the Force itself had told him. That I highly doubted. What good would it serve him? He could already listen to the Force if he chose to open his ears. He would not need me to translate what the Force wanted of him. Perhaps he had been reacting to something else? Yes, that was it.

I yawned, careful to make it exaggerated and slow. Everyone in the group turned to me, and I flinched slightly at the sudden attention. Despite the fact that that had been my intention, I was as of yet still unused to more than a couple sets of eyes on me. In my childhood I had never had the chance to be the center of attention. Notice meant getting caught sooner, and that habit I had no desire to break.

"Isn't the race supposed to start soon?" I said awkwardly into the sudden silence.

"It is," Qui-gon admitted, "Come Ani, we'll get you set up."

Qui-gon took the boy's shoulder and for a second a flash of insight took me. I could almost see the green threads of the Force swirling around where the Jedi's hand touched the boy. For a second it seemed as if the green of Qui-gon's threads dimmed and lent their light to the threads wrapped around Anakin. I squinted at the sudden image and the moment was gone.

"Esterial," Qui-gon prompted and I reluctantly followed him and Anakin out onto the track. I would have much preferred to go along with Padme and the others who where currently on a quest to find some good seats to watch the race from. With a sigh, I quickened my step to catch up with the Jedi.

_A/N: I know it's short but REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!_


	5. The River Gorge

_Disclaimer: don't own... sorry_

_A/N: So sorry it took me so long to update this! Thankies to my reviewers, Jax Solo, rawinth, and Artemis1292_. _And special thankies to the amazing Sugar-high Pixie who helped me get over my writer's block. _

Wounded Within

Chapter 5: The River Gorge

Once it was obvious Anakin could handle preparing for the race on his own, Qui-gon gave the boy a few words of wisdom and left him to finish getting ready. I was glad that we were finally leaving the track. I was a bit impatient to see this race. The last and only podrace I had seen had been brutal, nearly barbaric. The fast speeds made accidents easy, and it was equally easy for the racers to sabotage each other and claim it had just been a mistake.

Even though I had only seen the race from a distance, it had been thrilling. If this race were anything like the one I had seen, this would be quite a show.

We made our way to where the others had saved us seats. As we stepped onto the viewing platform, Shmi looked nervously at the Jedi.

"Is he nervous?" she asked tentatively.

"He's fine" was the answer.

I had to restrain a snort. Fine? Shmi had every right to be worried. Just by being in the podrace, Anakin was anything _but_ fine.

Qui-gon shot me a sharp look, and I glared right back. I didn't need _him_ to tell me to stay quiet. I could figure that out just fine on my own.

Soon enough, though, it was announced that the race had begun. I moved to the edge of the platform with the others in hopes of seeing the start.

I bit my lip as a voice spoke over the loud speakers. "An dare ovv!" A second later, and another announcement was made, one that made me grimace. "Oh… wait. Little Skywalker has stalled."

I could almost taste the disappointment spiraling off of my companions, but something distracted me. Green threads coiled and flexed in space, brushing up against the void that filled up the space between them. A slight spark flickered at the contact and I felt a pull in my gut as Anakin's engine suddenly ignited. He tore off in an attempt to regain lost time, completely unaware of the Force's assistance.

I looked to where Qui-gon stood, his eyes closed as if he were meditating. But he showed no sign that he had sense the fluctuation in the Force. I got the feeling that I was the only one who had noticed. Very well. I did not need the whisper of the Force to know that I would not be sharing this information any time soon.

My attention focused again on the podrace. I watched over Padame's shoulder as she and the others observed the race on a small screen. It took very little time for me to realize that this podrace was child's play compared to the one I had seen before. It was sluggish and boring. None of the racers had any weapons and the course itself had not traps or pitfalls that might snare an unwary driver. In short, it was boring.

"Let me know when it gets interesting. I'll be over here….. staring at my feet or something." I got no response, but had not expected one. The others were thoroughly focused on the race.

About to turn, something on the screen caught my eye. The podracers were speeding though what looked to be an ordinary gorge. Sheer cliffs rose high on either side of them. It was a particular rock near the top of the precipice that made me pause.

Stark against the dark brown rock was a series of sharply carved runes and symbols. Perhaps a marker for the race course. The runes however, triggered a memory from my childhood.

_It is nearly dark as I wait by the river's edge. "stay out of the water, it is too deep" I had been warned. My parents will be back for me soon, meanwhile, I wait. I lean against a mossy rock, it's odd shape like a hunched over runner-beast. Vines cover it, but something about the texture doesn't feel right. I brush away the vines to reveal dark brown stone. There are carvings, runes and symbols, etched into it, the color different from the rest of the stone, lighter. The runes are eroded and covered in moss, but still clear and easily discernable. I trace the shapes and lines cut into the rock, trying to make sense of them, over and over until the sun sets. Still in the dark, my hand continues its pattern until I could have etched the exact symbols into the mud on the bank. Eventually, my parents come to retrieve me, but I would forever be able to recognize those markings, either by feel or by sight._

My eyes are drawn to the rock, shaped like a hunched over runner-beast. My hand traces the familiar patterns against my thigh, almost without me noticing. There is no water, no moss, no vines, and the markings are cut fresh and sharp, but they are the same markings that I had committed to memory at so young an age.

I staggered back, unable to fully comprehend this. How could they not be eroded like the last time I saw them? And there was no river in the gorge. How-

Words whispered to me out of the force, not real words, but rather an echo of a night previous.

_: You are in a time before yours, brought here by us, dark and light, to help:_

At the time what the Force had told me had not fully sunk in. Now it did. I was in the far flung past, back when what I perceived as myth and legend was actually happening. My breath caught in my throat and I sputtered, choking. How could this be? I grappled with the knowledge, but my mind could not make sense of it. To help? What was I supposed to help _with_? How could I help? The Force already had its warriors. Jedi Knights for the Light side, and if I remembered correctly, Sith for the Dark side. What could I do? I wasn't even a good fighter. I could fight if my life depended on it, but I was much more adept at running and hiding. Fighting got people killed. At least if I ran I would be alive.

My knees nearly gave way as I lurched back. Head spinning, I grasped for anything to steady me. My hand found the center column of the platform and I clutched at it as if my life depended on it. Perhaps it did. Chest heaving, my heart and lungs struggled to function through the shock.

Qui-gon turned around as if finally noticing the state I was in. Eyes focusing on him wildly, I jerked as he sent out a calming tendril of the Force in an attempt to soothe me.

"What is it?" he asked, bringing my situation to the attention of the others. "Esterial, what is wrong?"

Just as my lungs struggled for breath, my mind grappled for a coherent answer to his question.

After a few failed attempts to say something, I eventually managed to sputter out, "Just a memory. Something is finally making sense."

Qui-gon pinned me with as stare that said clearly as if he had shouted it that he was not pleased with my response and he would question me about it later. I was simply grateful for the reprieve. It was a chance to attempt to organize the turmoil of my thoughts.

Satisfied that Qui-gon had the situation in hand, the rest of our group went back to watching Anakin's race. With one last penetrating look, the Jedi too returned his focus to the race.

I slid against the pillar until I was seated on the floor, still shaking slightly. What should I do with this new knowledge? It took me a few seconds to realize the thought had been silly. This was not new. I just hadn't fully comprehended it before. Now that I did, why should I act any differently? I would continue on as I had before. Simple. What difference did the time I was in make anyway? I was here _now_. Might as well make the best of it.

Steadied by my new resolve, I remained seated. I leaned back against the cool dura-steel and closed my eyes.

The Force thrummed its approval at my resolution. Green threads wove in and out of the darkness, counter balancing it. I smiled at the feeling of tranquility that resulted. My mind slipped into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, lulled by the Force's murmuring lullaby.

I roused to shrill cheering.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Anakin won!" Shmi exclaimed, smiling profusely.

"That's good." I responded groggily. The Force sang a victory cry through my bones, a cry that incorporated both light and dark. Something had shifted. I could feel it deep in my gut. The Force had nudged the future onto a particular path, and it was ecstatic. Something had changed, but what exactly I did not know. My knowledge of the legends was not as thorough as I now wished it to be.

An enthusiastic Jar Jar seized me in his arms and hauled me up, crushing me against his chest in what I assumed was supposed to be a hug. After a few moments he released me only to give Qui-gon the same treatment.

The rest of the day passed quickly. After the race I went with Qui-gon to see Watto about the parts we had won. At first Watto wanted to make trouble when Qui-gon reminded him about Anakin, but with a single mention of the Hutts, the conflict was resolved. It was almost frightening how easily Qui-gon had manipulated the situation. I supposed this was what most of being a Jedi was about. Negotiating. How else would the Jedi be so adept at it aside from practice?

Once that matter was settled, we rejoined the rest of the group. As everyone mounted the Eopies, I moved to jump up behind Jar Jar, but Qui-gon pulled me aside.

"The knives we found you with are back at Anakin's house. Shmi will show you where they are. I'll be back to retrieve you and Anakin later."

I nodded, wondering when he decided that I would be going with him. And did I have any say in the matter? Apparently not.

"I will return the Eopies by midday." Qui-gon said to the entire group. He left taking the parts and I was left to clamber onto the one remaining Eopie behind Anakin.

_A/N: Review please! I worked really hard on this chapter._


	6. Torn Out of Time

_Disclaimer: don't own_

_A/N: sorry it's taken so long to update. Thanks to my reviewers Indy and Sugar-high Pixie.  
_

Wounded Within

Chapter 6: Torn Out of Time

The next few hours while I waited for Qui-gon to return I focused my attention on coaxing Shmi to reveal the location of my knives. The hiding place of my clothes was not difficult to find. It turned out that Shmi had carefully stitched my leathers back together instead of tossing them, for which I was grateful. However, the woman seemed much more stubborn when it came to my weaponry.

"I told you, Qui-gon said I could have them." I wheedled for the millionth time.

The weary response I got in return was the same I had gotten every time before, "I will give them to you later."

It was obvious Shmi did not believe me. So after a few moments of glaring at her back, I turned and resumed my search of the various rooms of the house. I had been through every nook and cranny I could think of twice over, but still I remained weaponless.

When searching the kitchen cabinets turned out to be as fruitless as the first time around I turned my attention to the other storage areas of the little house. I searched every closet, opened every box, and withdrew every drawer with the same fastidious thoroughness as my earlier search. Still, no results. Perhaps the laundry or under the mattress I had been sleeping in.

Before I could act on my idea there was a commotion at the door.

"Mom, he sold the pod. Look at all the money we have!" Anakin exclaimed, bursting in.

Qui-gon followed closely behind, a small smile played on his lips as he watched the boy.

"_Good_ you're here! Now you can tell Shmi" I pinned the woman in question with a glare as I approached Qui-gon before continuing, "that she can give me my weapons back and stop hiding them."

The only response I received was a weary sigh and a tired nod in Shmi's direction. Shmi nodded distractedly in return, focusing on Anakin. The boy was pulling out a small bag filled with what I assumed were some sort of currency.

"Oh, my goodness. That's wonderful."

"And Anakin has been freed."

I felt my head whip around at the Jedi's statement. I could feel the Force humming around both him and the boy, pulsing as if pleased with itself.

"What!" Anakin seemed blissfully unaware of the Force twining around him, connecting him to the older Jedi. No doubt Anakin thought Qui-gon was not being truthful. I smiled. So this was why Qui-gon had wagered for the boy.

"You are no longer a slave."

Shmi was stunned, but I could feel a sense of understanding and then resignation dawn on her. Anakin had been freed. Anakin. Just as I was starting to offer her a comforting smile, I felt her brief mood shift. I looked into eyes clear and happy. Her son was free.

"Now you can make your dreams come true, Annie. You're free!" She turned to Qui-gon, her eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and worry. "Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?"

Qui-gon's gaze turned thoughtful. His voice came out gravely as he turned to Anakin. "Our meeting was not a coincidence. Nothing happens by accident.

You are strong with the Force, but you may not be accepted by the Council."

The subtle warning did nothing to dampen Anakin's elation. "A Jedi! Mighty blasters, you mean I get to go with you in your starship and everything?"

As the Jedi kneeled down to speak to Anakin more easily, I looked to Shmi. "_My knives"_ I implored silently.

"Of course," Shmi smiled, "There is a wicker basket at the foot of your bed. Your weapons are wrapped in some linen near the bottom."

"Thank you," I said, turning to leave. Such an obvious place to hide them. How had I missed it? Shaking my head I turned to fetch my knives.

There they were, right where she said, wrapped in a dark material that was scratchy against my palms. I inspected them quickly. Not only were the blades intact, but polished too. Perhaps from the sand, perhaps Shmi had been looking after them for me. I probably would never know. Luckily, sheathes for each of the wicked looking blades were present as well. It would have been inconvenient to say the least if either had been lost. After strapping them in their rightful place, one on each calf, I returned to the main room.

"I will watch after him," Qui-gon was saying as I walked back into the room. "You have my word. Will you be alright?"

"He was in my life for such a short time." Shmi's voice was breathy, as if she weren't quite there.

A heavy silence followed as we waited for Anakin to return. When he did I rushed outside. I didn't like goodbyes. They reminded me too much of one goodbye I had made years before. I focused myself on what was to come and not what was occurring behind me. It was a challenge to block out the voices behind me, however.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"What does your heart tell you?"

"I hope so… yes…. I guess."

"Then we will see each other again."

"_We will see each other again," _echoed in my head in a different voice, from a different time. My breath caught with a memory that I had long since repressed.

"No matter where you are, my love will be with you. Now be brave, and

don't look back... don't look back."

_"Whatever you do, don't look back."_

_I clutched at my mother's hand, disoriented by the night and lack of light or sound. The forest was quiet. I knew what that meant, but the thoughts were not connecting in my brain. _

_"Hurry," I could hear my father saying as he pushed both my mother and I through the trap door. His footsteps echoed hollowly behind us and we huddled in a dark corner of the basement._

_My bare feet brushed up against an uneven floorboard and I nearly tripped. I bent down by instinct and pulled it up. Beneath was a shallow pit, just large enough for one person to crouch in side. _

_"Hurry," my mother repeated as she urged me into the hole. "Now, I'm going to cover you up. Be good and quiet just like we've always practiced. Once everything is quiet but you can hear the birds again, I want you to come out carefully and run into the forest. Run you hear me?"_

_I nodded from where I curled up._

_"Run and don't look back, don't look back."_

_Once again I nodded. The floorboard was replaced. I could hear muffled footsteps as my parents ascended the stairs to the upper floor. There was a quiet sound I recognized as a sword being drawn._

_It was deathly silent for a few seconds. Then chaos. I could not make out what was happening. All I knew was that we had been found. And the Tazzarn had come like we had always feared they would. _

_Then, so suddenly I feared I had gone deaf there was silence. Heavy feet clunked their way down to the small cellar. I caught my breath, to frightened to even breathe. There was a moment longer than eternity and the feet retreated once again to the upper floor._

_Eventually, the sound of the birds returned and I did as my parents said. I slunk unobtrusive as a shadow up to the house. There were signs of a struggle, and as much as I wanted to look to see if my parents were around. I knew they were gone. _

_"_Run and don't look back_" My mother's last words to me rang in my head. And I ran. I had been taught to survive on my own in the forests of the swampland on which we lived. So I ran. I ran and I didn't look back._

I gasped as my mind came back to my surroundings. Qui-gon shot me a strange look but focused once again on Anakin.

"I love you so much," The boy said to his mother before hugging her, turning around, and striding briskly past Qui-gon and me.

He didn't look back.

_A/N: REVIEW!_


	7. Task Left Undone

_Disclaimer: sorry I don't own star wars_

_A/N: sorry it took so long, though a lot less long than my other stories..... oh well, here's the chapter, oh, I want to thank my reviewers too. You are what inspire me to write.  
_

Wounded Within

Chapter 7: Task Left Undone

"I really, really dislike sand," I grumbled as we trudged across the hot desert, the two suns blazing in the sky. The glare reflected off the sand painfully into my eyes and grit somehow found its way to rub against my still sensitive skin.

"Couldn't have given me a chance to heal before sending me back out into the desert, could you," I continued to complain.

"You are welcome to remain on Tatooine, but you will have to find your own ride off if you wish to leave." Qui-gon commented on my quiet mutterings.

I scowled in return. It was an idle threat. I knew he would not leave a mysterious "force-sensitive" behind. And he knew I had absolutely no desire to remain on this barren rock. It might be the past version of T'tooine, but it was not the same world, not in the least.

"I suppose I would be sick of sand too," Anakin chimed in, the nuances of Qui-gon and my meanings flying straight over his nine-year old head. "That is, if I was caught in a sandstorm like that."

"Yes, Anakin, I probably would too." Qui-gon smiled down at him and the boy beamed in response.

I had to resist rolling my eyes.

"How far is it?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Not far."

"You said that an hour of walking ago. Where is this horned ship?" He gave me an odd look at my swearing. Perhaps I should be careful to use curses that are appropriate for this time period. Something told me that it probably wasn't a good idea to go about advertising that I knew about the Tazzarn and their plan.

"Can we take a break, Qui-gon? I'm tired," Anakin chimed in wearily.

Qui-gon opened his mouth to speak. "Ana-" Then his face went slack for a brief instance and his entire demeanor changed.

My feet stumbled. I felt it too. Suddenly chill with dread, the Force shrieked in my ear in warning. Something dark was coming quickly and it meant us harm.

"Run Anakin!" Qui-gon shouted.

The boy stalled, confused.

"Run!"

Then Anakin saw what we had felt. He shot off like an arrow, sand flying up from his heels.

Qui-gon and I followed behind, unsheathing our respective weapons.

A sense of dread filled me, leadening my limbs so that it was difficult to move. I fought not to look behind me as we sprinted toward a silver gleam I now recognized as a ship.

"Anakin, drop!" Qui-gon ordered sharply.

The boy crumpled boneless to the ground just in time for a speeder bike to fly straight over him.

There was a _snap-hiss _beside me and Qui-gon leapt toward the figure, his lightsaber ignited.

But I saw all of this only distantly. From the first second I had viewed the newcomer I had been filled with a bone-deep fury that rooted me to the spot.

"Esterial! Make sure Anakin gets to the ship. Tell them to take off!" Qui-gon's call jerked me out of my stupor but did naught to diminish my anger. I ran to Anakin and helped him to his feet.

"You heard him, go!" I barked. I didn't wait to make sure he followed my orders before adjusting my grip on my knives and jumping into battle.

The Force swirled in a torrent around the other two combatants. For a second all I saw was a bright bundle of green where Qui-gon stood and a darker-than-black void for his opponent. Green and red lightsabers clashed.

"Tazzarn!" I cried, my fury tearing out of my throat with that single harsh cry.

That was sufficient to get his attention. Yellow eyes out of nightmare pinned me with a glare that promised death. No doubt he wanted none in this Republic to know of his kind.

Qui-gon too, seemed momentarily stunned. I seized my chance and leapt toward the Tazzarn prince. He hissed as blade met flesh and drew blood, but it was just a glancing blow. I knew that slash had been mostly chance; it would most likely not happen again without my wielding a sword or knives balanced enough for throwing.

The darker part of the Force whispered to me that even then I would be no match for him.

His red lightsaber hummed as it swung toward my head; I could feel a few hairs on my scalp singe as I ducked. I jabbed at him again, but had to dance back out of reach. Qui-gon took this moment to rejoin the battle and in a lightning-fast move he swiped at the Tazzarn. Red sizzled against green as the move was deftly blocked.

Not quite in tandem, the Jedi and I battled. Slowly, my fury ebbed and gave way to desperation. I was not prepared for this. Not only was I still weak from the sandstorm, but I had never actually fought against a skilled opponent. My parents had only begun my training and always with the reminder that I was only to fight if I could not flee. My training was purely defensive and without the added anger my strength was flagging.

Qui-gon was trying his best to protect both of us, but even I could tell he had his hands full.

A throb of warning deep in my gut from the Force told me to dodge, but I knew even before I reacted that it would be too late.

Red arced toward me and Qui-gon was too far away to counter it. The red sliced right through the steel blades I raised instinctually to block.

Searing pain blossomed in my side. I staggered back, clutching at where I expected to find bloody organs spilling out into the sand. Instead my hand came away covered with blood and gobs of charred flesh.

I cried out, collapsing to my knees, gasping for breath that wouldn't come.

I looked up and a face filled my vision. Smug satisfaction leaked out of yellow eyes framed by a red and black patterned face.

Vaguely I was aware of something encircling my waist and lift me up. This something touched down on what felt like metal.

Darkness encroached on my vision as I felt whatever or whomever it was that lifted me up set me down on a flat metal surface.

"What happened?" A young voice said.

"Esterial was wounded." Another, deeper voice spoke.

"Master! Are you all right? Whatever that was, it felt dark." A new voice I did not recognize chimed in.

My vision was completely dark now and for some reason the excruciating pain in my side was fading.

"Yes, Padawan, I am fine. She, however, is not. Anakin, could you go get some help?"

Footsteps receded.

"Master, what was that?"

My awareness was fading fast and before I could hear the answer, what little consciousness I had left fled.

I nestled in a tangle of green threads, the black void between the threads, cushioning me, keeping me from sinking through. I snuggled deeper, not quite sure of who I was or what was going on. But I was comfortable and content. That was all that mattered.

A thread snagged my side and I hissed in surprise. For some reason I had expected pain. Instead, an odd numbness was spreading out from the contact.

Deciding to ignore the strange sensation, I began to let myself drift. It was easy to just let my awareness wander and not think about a thing.

Gradually a buzzing grew in the back of my head. At first I tried to ignore it, but the droning intensified steadily, the pressure on my mind growing till I realized it must reach a breaking point.

_Your task is not complete._ The words coalesced out of nowhere that I could discern.

_You will be sent back until your task is done._

I did not want to go back though. I was safe here. Something had hurt me before. I did not want to face it again.

Green threads tightened around me as if to comfort me. I felt myself relax once again in their embrace.

The soothing turned to searing. I writhed against the threads. Surely the darkness of the void would protect me. I struggled towards it, but the void pushed me back into the threads. I was thrashing with the burning pain now, each movement entangling me even more completely.

I had the oddest feeling I had done this before.

All awareness ceased.

The sight that met my eyes when I started to wakefulness was not very encouraging. Sterile white walls surrounded me on all sides and the surface I was lying on turned out to be a cold metal examination table.

My hand found its way to my side, expecting to encounter a grievous wound. All I wound was a large circular patch of skin rough with scar tissue.

_You will be sent back until your task is done. _The words echoed in my ears.

Had the Force healed me because it still needed my help? I only wish I knew what this "task" was.

Sighing, I filed that line of thought away to contemplate later. Right now I needed to figure out where I was.

I sat up, dismayed to find myself completely naked covered only in a sheet. Dubious, I wrapped it securely around me and started looking for some clothes, or at the very least an exit.

Unsuccessful in my search for clothes, I turned my attention to an exit. A rectangular crack in the wall caught my attention. Beside the unmarked patch of wall was a smaller rectangular pad that stuck out from the wall slightly. Perhaps a door?

I pressed my palm to the smaller rectangle and with a whooshing sound the rectangular section of wall receded. On the other side of the door was a slightly more hospitable corridor. Without a glance at the spartan room behind me I stepped out onto the carpet, the door closing behind me.

With a vague recollection of Qui-gon carrying me, I assumed I was on his ship. Now all I had to do was find him.

Soon enough I was lost. After running into the third dead end in a row, I realized this was not going to work. Leaning against the wall, I contemplated my options.

Something nudged at my thoughts. Left, the Force was telling me, Left. So I followed it. The Force urged me to palm it open. I did so, not sure what to expect.

I froze in shock. The sight that confronted me was that of a semi-circle of color. At the center dressed in an ornate gown and headdress was who I assumed to be this Queen Amidala. Her chair was flanked on either side by what appeared to be servants in red-orange gowns and uniformed men who must be guards. The focal point of the arc was a grouping of three people, two men and one boy dressed in brown robes; Qui-gon, Anakin, and one other. At my entrance the three in the center turned their heads.

There was a moment of stillness, as if everyone in the room had taken a collective breath. I was suddenly very acutely aware of my lack of clothing.

The moment passed and surprise spiraled off of the assembly. Anakin's jaw hinged open and Qui-gon's eyes widened. It was the younger man standing next to Qui-gon who reacted most violently.

I had barely taken a breath before a blue lightsaber was at my throat.

"What are you?" The wielder of that blade commanded.

"Padawan," Qui-gon said sternly. Sighing slightly, the young man relaxed and retracted his weapon. He did not retreat however.

"How?" Anakin burst out.

"How what?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"You were dead!" was the boy's astonished answer.

"What do you mean? Of course I wasn't!" The protest began to die near the end of my sentence as I tried to remember exactly what had happened.

I had been wounded badly and carried to the ship. Then darkness. And I woke up in a strange medical facility with cold metal tables, no droids or personnel, and very few tools for monitoring vital signs. I was also without a hospital gown or any other form of clothing.

"Esterial," Qui-gon said, snapping my attention back to the present, "What is it you remember?"

I related my memories to him, not sure where his thoughts were headed.

Qui-gon was silent for a moment, considering my words.

Finally, he spoke. "The medical center you remember waking up in is the morgue.

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed at him.

"You were dead for five hours." The man Qui-gon had addressed as Padawan continued. "We tried to heal you, but your wound was too severe. There was nothing we could do. You died within minutes of Qui-gon bringing you aboard."

"Wha-?" I started to say as my hand drifted to the fading scar tissue on my side. A sudden chill went through me.

_You will be sent back until your task is done._

The words echoed once again through my head. Perhaps the Force had done more than heal me. Perhaps the Force had brought me back to life.

"How is that possible?" I asked.

Qui-gon stared at me steadily. "That is what we would like to know."

_A/N: thanks for reading, review please!_


	8. Cold of Space

_Disclaimer: don't own_

_A/N: thankies to any reviewers  
_

Wounded Within

Chapter 8: Cold of Space

The shock still hadn't quite faded by the time one of the handmaidens fetched me a rough set of clothes similar to those the Jedi wore under their robes.

I sat at a table in the commissary pushing some sort of mush around the plate in front of me.

Qui-gon sat opposite me, staring intently.

A clatter of fork against plate signaled when the silent scrutiny became too much.

"What?" I demanded.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember before waking up?" Qui-gon said steadily.

"I was stabbed in the side, you brought me onto the ship, and then I passed out. No matter how many times you ask me, the answer is still going to be the same."

Qui-gon's level stare remained the same. I could feel the Force pulsing around him, measuring the truth of my words. _True_, the Force whispered.

"And when you woke up?"

"The cold metal table, no clothes, white walls, hallway, meeting, having your Padawan's lightsaber held to my throat, etcetera, etcetera." My answer was merely a simpler version of my previous four answers to the same question.

_True,_ the Force whispered.

"And in between loosing consciousness and waking?" Qui-gon's tone and stare were unchanged, but I paused at this question. He had been asking the same two questions for the past ten or fifteen minutes. This question was new.

"And in between?" He prompted.

How did I answer that? Could I tell him of the dark and green, the void and threads? Something in me whispered to keep that to myself. It was of no one's concern but my own.

"Nothing. I don't remember anything." I lied.

Qui-gon was silent. I could tell he didn't believe me.

_True,_ the Force whispered.

Qui-gon's shoulders loosened slightly as he pushed any doubts aside.

My time between death and life would remain unspoken and unknown by anyone but me and I was glad the Force agreed and wanted to keep it that way. Selfishly, I hoped it would always stay that way, that such an experience would remain only mine.

"May I see your wound?" The Jedi asked.

Silently, I lifted my shirt just enough for him to see the rough scar. There was a surge of the Force that ran straight through me as his fingertips reached out and lightly brushed my side.

"It appears to be the same injury, except the healing has accelerated greatly. It is almost as if the fatal injury has healed a years worth in only hours." He withdrew his hand and I shivered as the electricity in my blood faded with it. "Does it hurt?"

"It aches a little, but nothing too painful." I answered, pulling the fabric back down.

"So," I started, "Where are we headed?"

"Coruscant."

"Alright. Where is that?"

"It is the capitol of the Republic. The Senate building and Jedi Temple are there."

"What is going to happen to me?"

"That I do not know." Qui-gon said apologetically. "I will need to speak with the Council on both the matters of you and Anakin."

I nodded. That was understandable and it was better than an empty promise. And it wasn't like I had anywhere left to go either.

Silence fell and my hand began idly pushing the food around on my plate once again. It wasn't long before Qui-gon's Padawan came in.

"Queen Amidala wishes to speak with you, Master." He said to Qui-gon. The elder Jedi nodded, rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

"I will have more questions later," he told me before leaving.

The Padawan took his place opposite me.

"Sorry," I said, " I didn't catch your name before."

"Obi-wan."

"Ah, and do you normally hold lightsabers to people you just meet?"

"Do you normally rise from the dead?"

"Good point." I laughed.

We were silent for a few moments.

"What's it like being a Jedi?" I blurted.

"A lot of hard work, but it's worth it."

"How long have you been one?" Judging by the brightness and thickness of the green threads around him it had been a while.

"As long as I can remember. Force-sensitives are brought to the Temple when they are very young. It isn't until they're about eleven or thirteen that a master takes them as a Padawan learner."

"Oh." I could not imagine living such a life, where study, not survival, was the main objective. I studied Obi-wan.

With his spiky ginger hair, long braid, and youthful face he did not look like a nearly-immortal warrior of the ancient legends.

Still, the way he had ignited his lightsaber and leapt across the room with lightning speed gave a glimpse of that warrior.

"How long are you going to be a Padawan?" I asked, hoping these questions were not broaching some sort of boundary.

"Until Qui-gon deems me ready to take the Trials."

I did not ask what the Trials were and Obi-wan did not explain them. No doubt they were exactly what they sounded like.

Silence descended once again. Finally feeling ready to try the food in front of me, I scooped up a small mouthful. The gray mush was surprisingly good. It wasn't excellent, but edible. Much more edible than it had appeared to be.

"What is this?"

"I'm not sure. Probably some form of synthetic protein and fiber substitute. We were in a hurry when we took off in this ship and did not have the time to fully supply it. We are down to the emergency rations at this point."

"Oh," I said, swallowing another spoonful. Now that I had begun eating, the hunger I should have been feeling long before was finally settling in. "Will we have enough to make it to Coruscant?"

"Yes, but not by much. Luckily, we only have one more day of travel." These words were said with a smile and Obi-wan took a sip of water from the glass that had previously been Qui-gon's.

I took a sip of my own water, ignoring the slightly stale taste that comes from water being still to long. Upon reflection, though, I had drunk much worse tasting and looking water to survive. I had to stifle a laugh at myself.

Soon the food on my plate was gone along with my remaining water. I looked around in hopes of some clue of what to do with the dishes. A pity no one had come in to eat while I had been there for me to see what he or she would do.

"Need some help?"

Obi-wan's voice startled me. Was my predicament that plain?  
"Yes, thank you. Where do I put the dishes?"

"Here," Obi-wan stood and walked over to a device in the wall. He placed his dishes and mine into the compartment, closed the transparisteel door and pressed a button on the side.

"This will clean and sanitize them. Then we can put the dishes back."

Within moments of Obi-wan's explanation, a small light near the bottom of the door flickered to life. He removed the dishes and set them back on their respective racks.

"Thank you, I never would have known what to do." I said. Back home soap and water were the only way I could wash my dishes.

"Do you know where you are going to be sleeping yet?" The young Jedi asked me as we walked out into the hallway.

"No," I answered. "Though I was not really planning to sleep very much." At all, actually.

"I'm sure we can find you some quarters," Obi-wan said, motioning me to follow, "Come on."

I followed as the Jedi led me through the corridors, not hesitating when he turned down unmarked junctions. I was lost by the time we stopped outside a door that looked identical to the ones we had passed along the way. Put me in a forest and I would never lose my way, but in this place where everything looked the same with no reference points and I was utterly turned around.

"How big is this ship?" I asked.

"Not huge, but the interior is designed to allow for maximum space inside the hull. At times that means the corridor is a bit of a maze." Obi-wan answered.

I palmed the control panel to open the door and encountered a room that was more the size of a storage closet.

"The spare rooms also tend to be quite small as a result as well." Obi-wan continued when he saw my reaction to the limited space.

A single cot took up most of the space; a small shelving unit took up much of the rest. At the far side of the room there was another door that I assumed lead to a bathroom.

"The fresher is on the other side of that door," Obi-wan confirmed my guess, though the terminology was strange to me. "I wouldn't suggest you wander about in case you get lost, but if you do need to go for a walk and can't find your way back, the panels to the sides of the doors can also be used to access the COM. We should be arriving at Coruscant soon, so get some rest." With that, the young Jedi gave a slight bow and exited. The door swished closed behind him.

I was alone at last. With a sigh, I plopped down on the rickety bed. I was not tired, well, not very. I had no intention of sleeping, however. What felt like minutes passed. Had those three questions really been all Qui-gon wanted to ask me. There had to be more. Wouldn't he have asked if I had had this happen before? If there had been other instances where I had found myself alive when I should have been dead?

Had there? I thought back as far as I could. That place with the green threads and the void had felt familiar. Was that the force? My mind clicked the puzzle pieces together. Before the sandstorm. That Tazzarn. He had killed me for real. The Force hadn't just pulled me back in time and save my life in the process. It had pulled me back in time then _because_ I was dead. Dead to my own time, there was nothing else I could possibly do there. The Force had pulled me back to a time not my own in order to accomplish something, and since I did not belong there, the Force could bring me back from the dead however many times it wished.

I shivered, suddenly very cold. Restlessness filled my limbs, and I was filled with the desire to move. I didn't care where, I just had to get out of this confining room.

The door slid open with a swish of displaced air, and I looked out into the empty hallway. For such a large ship, there certainly were never any people about. It felt strange, but what did I know about space travel? I had never left my forest if I could help it, let alone my planet.

At the end of the corridor was a small circular chamber. Perhaps it was a 'lift'? I had heard of them before, and some of the high-end shops in the cities on T'tooine supposedly had them, but I had never actually been in one. Curious, I stepped on and pressed the palm pad that I guessed would activate it.

"Well, that's strange," I gasped as the floor started lowering far faster than I wanted. The lift came to a stop, and I stood still for a second, not quite ready to move. The door swished open, and I stumbled out, ready to be rid of the odd contraption. They had to have stairs _somewhere._

"Do you need help with something?" A voice I recognized asked.

"Umm, hello Padme." I said, looking around. I was in what appeared to be a maintenance bay for droids. Anakin was curled up on a chair wrapped in a blanket next to a table, "Anakin."

"Hello," the boy answered.

I looked at where Jar Jar lay sprawled opposite Anakin, asleep.

"Are you lost?" Padme spoke again.

From her tone I gathered that my wandering about the ship was not welcome. Quickly, I thought up an excuse.

"Actually, I was looking for you. Could you please teach me how to use the fresher? I'm not exactly familiar with this model." That was an understatement. Back home it had always been stream water for me as any sort of power signature where there was supposed to be none was a beacon for any human-hunters.

"Sure, no problem," was the response. She gave Anakin a smile before walking purposefully towards the lift.

"Aren't there any stairs we could take?"

A confused glance was all the answer I received.

_Of course not, why would there be stairs? _I grimaced, but kept the comment to myself as I followed.


End file.
